The Collector
by WaddlesThePenguin
Summary: Have you any idea what powers I possess? I am not someone to befriend or ally yourself with. I am cursed by Daedra and Divine. Bond with me, and you die. I am powerful, I am rejected, I am the Collector of ancient artefacts, and this is my story. Rated T for violence. MANY QUESTLINE SPOILERS!


**A.N: Hey guys! This idea just came to me randomly like most of my ideas and I had to write it. The first chapter will be mainly introductions and stuff but bear with me, you'll need an intro to understand. I hope you enjoy it! If you didn't read the summary, this story contains many questline spoilers. Before we start I want you to know I'm not one of the people who has tons of time to write. I have about 8 fics in total, am in an important time at school and have various other commitments. So it may be a gap of two months before another chapter (or less or more, depending on my inspiration levels). Thank you for you time, now ON WITH THE STORY!**

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**1. Cursed.**

"Sir, you have some Daedric artefacts on you." A vigilant of Stendarr told me, eyeing me with disgust, as everyone does. "These artefacts are powerful things from demonic beings. Surrender them immediately."  
"Do you understand the comfort they bring me?" I challenged. "Do you know who I am?"  
"No, we have been out of touch with the world since the Hall of the Vigilants burned down. Now, give us the items."  
"I shall not." I protested, folding my arms. My stomach rumbled, my plague was making an appearance as it often did when I was angered.  
"Then we will take them by force!" He yelled, drawing a dwarven mace, his partner readying weak flame spells. My mouth was forced open by something from inside and poisonous bile spewed forth from it, burning the men. I readied my hands and shot a ball of poison at them, closely followed by a spike of shadows. The poison corroded the skin of the stronger vigilant and the shadow impaled the other. They collapsed and I ran, not looking back.

I am not normal, I am cursed. The Daedra thought it would be fun to make my blood boil with power. As a baby, they had seen that I would travel here and decided to use me to spread their fear through Skyrim. The less evil Daedra (Hermaeus Mora; Meridia; Sheogorath; Azura and Nocturnal) had known that the evil energies from them would consume me so they sought Akatosh. Did the Divine decide to purge me of the blessings and curses? No, he thought giving me more power would help to balance out the evil energies. Some nights I can't sleep from the amount of abnormal things given to me. I have been cursed by the Daedra and I am also the Dragonborn.

Only collecting eases the pain. Daedric artefacts, unique items, anything that is one-of-a-kind will help me control the powers. The enchantments negate the powerful and sometimes nauseating effects with their strong magic. I don't know how it works, it just does. Oh sorry, I haven't introduced myself. Darnyair, of house Telvanni of the Dunmer. Dragonborn and plaything of the Daedra. I have over sixteen so-called 'blessings' from the sixteen Daedric Princes and Akatosh.

Azura, Prince of dusk and dawn, has given me the power to play with people's vision. Like dusk and dawn does, I can make people's vision slightly darker or lighter. Not extremely useful, but it's gotten me out of a few scrapes before. She also gave me sleep resistance, which makes me more alert, but also more restless.

Boethiah, the Prince of secret plots has granted me the ability to learn someone darkest secret. Some secrets are discovered by accident and haunt me at night, but some have caused my enemies to commit suicide because I know.

Clavicus Vile, the Prince of pacts and wishes through ritual has allowed me to summon his companion, Barbas, who is useful to have around, but the most annoying being in all existence.

Hermaeus Mora, the master of knowledge and memory has granted me the power to summon and control the poisonous waters of his realm, Apocrypha and an non-forgetting memory. I will never understand why that is a blessing. I remember every horror I have ever faced. And believe me, there have been plenty.

Hircine, the father of man-beasts, has given me Lycanthropy, the accursed affliction of werewolves. It is incurable. Some nights I just have the urge to transform and kill people, then wake up not remembering. I suppress it, but it is always there.

Malacath's curse is extremely malevolent. As Prince of the spurned, people fear me. I am an outcast, rejected. I have nearly killed myself many a time just thinking about it.

Mephala's sphere is unknown to mortals but the Prince is known as the Webspinner or the Spider and she meddles in the affairs of mortals for amusement. Her curse is my ability to shoot binding webs from my fingers, a power that only terrifies me and anyone else.

Meridia, the Prince who despises undead, has given me powers of holy fire that burns any type of undead creature, especially draugr.

Molag Bal, the lord of domination and enslavement of mortals has given me the blood of a vampire lord. This is similar to the effects of my Lycanthropy; it cannot be cured, I sometimes want to kill everyone. Only this time I cannot transform in daylight, else I burn. My werewolf blood protects my normal body from the sun, but when vampirism takes over, I will be struck with the harsh light of the sun.

Namira, the Prince of darkness and associated with revulsion has cursed me with the most horrific looks ever to grace a man's face and body. Scars, lumps, acne. You name it, I have it somewhere on me. As you can imagine, I have little self-esteem when it comes to looks.

Nocturnal, the patron to thieves and Prince of night gave me shadow magic, I consider hers, Meridia' and Mora's magical gifts to be the most useful.

Peryite is the Taskmaster and Prince of pestilence (disease). He gave me the cursed plague that his servants, the Afflicted, have. It is poisonous and powerful, but I cannot control it. It comes unexpectedly and I have once killed a close ally by accident. I feel permanently ill.

Sanguine, the Prince of debauchery and dark indulgences has cursed me with addiction. Every day at a sporadic hour, for an hour, I am gripped with a lust for skooma and alcohol. If there is none nearby, I am reduced to a shivering wreck in a corner, unable to do anything but shake and whimper. So far it has only happened three times in a fight. Last time I nearly lost an arm. How can I fight the World-Eater if I could be taken by my addiction at any time?

Sheogorath, the Prince of madness gave me slight control over emotions of people. I can tip someone over the edge into a fury or turn petty paranoia into simmering doubt. I have stopped a few fights with this power.

Vaermina, the mistress of dreams and nightmares allows me to enter and adjust the dreams of mortals, but I am also plagued by nightmares. This is why Azura gave me sleep resistance, to keep the nightmares at bay.

But none of those even come close to the curse of Mehrunes Dagon. Oh, no.

His curse is a curse to others. If I become close to you... your days are numbered. My mother died when I was one, my father soon after. Luckily, my grandparents neglected me, so they lived long enough for me to learn to fend for myself. My friends? Dead. My allies? Slaughtered. My family? Six feet under. It is a well known fact; bond with the Dragonborn and you will die. If he calls you 'friend', you should organise your funeral.

So I exist, lonely and rejected. I have tried to commit suicide too many times to count, but it never works.

Oh, did I not mention? The power made me immortal.

So yes, collecting eases the pain. Every time I find something new, the length of my addiction shortens. Nightmares are easier to cope with. I feel less sick. I have created the false hope that if I collect enough, maybe a curse will go, maybe I might be able to form a bond with people. I could grow old and die with someone I love. I could look normal.

I could be human.

I was far enough away from the two corpses to stop running. The armour of Arch-Curate Vrythur, one of the last snow elves - now dead for trying to kill me - shone in the early morning light, making my deathly pale skin look even whiter. Where would I go next? I had heard rumours of a Museum in Dawnstar about a cult worshipping Mehrunes Dagon. If that didn't say ' Daedric Artefact', then I was normal.

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**A.N: Sorry if the chapter was short, that's the best I've got. Please review follow and fav!**


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